Franz Kafka - Letters to Milena (10)

[@scythralisa]

I live for these letter readings 💔💔💔

[@thetalkativecrow]

Thank you for the lovely comment! You will be pleased to know that the next letter is very close.

[@scythralisa]

@@thetalkativecrowWell, in that case, I'm cancelling my funeral.

[@Nana-br2qv]

love it! when will the next reading be? 💝

[@thetalkativecrow]

I am hoping to do another letter towards the end of this week. Unfortunately, my laptop - almost as ancient as me - struggles with video editing anything longer than about 5 minutes, so it is something of a fraught process!

[@Nana-br2qv]

@@thetalkativecrow your efforts are much appreciated man, absolute gold readings. Take your time I’ll stay tuned in! 🙌

[@scythralisa]

​@@thetalkativecrow Hm, I suggest using a smartphone for making and editing videos? That is, if you have one... There are many apps that make the process much easier and faster.

[@thetalkativecrow]

@@scythralisa Thank you for the suggestion. Do you have in mind any particular apps? I am more than happy to explore options!

[@scythralisa]

@@thetalkativecrow for some reason I'm unable to leave a longer comment, perhaps it's due to moderation?

[@thetalkativecrow]

Just how well, Milena, do you know human nature? I sometimes have my doubts. For example, when you wrote about Werfel you wrote with love and maybe only love, but this love is without understanding, and even if you ignore all that W is and just stick to the accusation that he is fat (which moreover seems to me unjustified; even though I only see him in passing, I think W is growing more and more beautiful and lovable from year to year). Don't you know that fat people alone are to be trusted? Only in strong-walled vessels like these does everything get thoroughly cooked, only these capitalists of airspace are immune from worry and insanity, to the extent it is humanly possible, and only they can go calmly about their business and, as someone once said, they are the only useful citizens of this planet, for they provide warmth in the north and shade in the south. (Of course this can be twisted around, but then it isn't true.) Then there's the question of being Jewish. You ask me if I'm a Jew, maybe that's just a joke, maybe you're only asking if I'm one of those anxious Jews, in any case as a woman from Prague you can't be as innocuous in this respect as was, for instance, Mathilde, Heine's wife. (Perhaps you don't know the story. It seems to me I had something more important to tell you, besides, I'm convinced I'll somehow harm myself, not so much with the story as with its telling, but you should also hear something nice from me for once. Meissner, a German-Bohemian writer -not Jewish- tells it in his memoirs. Mathilde was always annoying him with her outbursts against the Germans: the Germans are malicious, pedantic, self-righteous, petty, pushy; in short, unbearable. "But you don't know the Germans at all," Meissner finally replied one day, "after all, the only people Henry sees are German journalists, and here in Paris all of them are Jewish." "Oh," said Mathilde, "you're exaggerating, there might be a Jew among them here and there, for instance Seiffert-" "No," said Meissner, "he's the only one who isn't Jewish." "What?" said Mathilde, "you mean that Jeitteles (a large, strong, blond man) is Jewish?" "Absolutely," said Meissner. "But what about Bamberger?" "Bamberger too." "But Arnstein?" "The same." And they went on like this exhausting all of their acquaintances. Finally Mathilde got annoyed and said: "You're just pulling my leg, in the end you'll claim that Kohn is a Jewish name too, but Kohn is one of Henry's nephews and Henry is Lutheran." Meissner had nothing to say to that.) In any case you don't seem to be afraid of Jews. And that is rather heroic considering the last two generations of Jews in our cities and-all joking very far aside!- when a pure, innocent girl says to her relatives, "Let me go," and moves to one of these cities, it means more than Joan of Arc departing from her village. Furthermore you may reproach Jews for their particular type of anxiety, nevertheless such a general accusation shows a more theoretical knowledge of human nature than a practical one, more theoretical because first the reproach does not -according to your earlier description-apply to your husband, second-according to my experience-it does not apply to most Jews, and third it only applies to isolated cases, but then very strongly, as it does to me. The strangest thing of all is that the reproach is generally unfounded. Their insecure position, insecure within themselves, insecure among people, would above all explain why Jews believe they possess only whatever they hold in their hands or grip between their teeth, that furthermore only tangible possessions give them a right to live, and that finally they will never again acquire what they once have lost-which swims happily away from them, gone forever. Jews are threatened by dangers from the most improbable sides or, to be more precise, let's leave the dangers aside and say: "They are threatened by threats." An example close to you. It's true I may have promised not to speak about it (at a time when I scarcely knew you) but now I mention it without hesitation, as it won't tell you anything new, just show you the love of relatives, and I won't mention names and details since I have forgotten them. My youngest sister is supposed to marry a Czech, a Christian; once he was talking with one of your relatives about his intention of marrying a Jew, and this person said: "Anything but that, just don't go getting mixed up with Jews! Listen, our Milena, etc." Where am I trying to lead you with all this? I've lost my way a little, but that doesn't matter, because if you've accompanied me, then we're both lost. What is particularly beautiful about your translation, that it is faithful (go ahead and scold me on account of this "faithful"-l know you can do everything, but maybe you scold best of all, I'd like to be your pupil just so you would constantly scold me; I'm sitting at my desk, scarcely daring to look up, you are bent over me and your index finger is glittering in the air, finding fault, isn't this the way it is?), as I was saying, your translation is faithful and I have the feeling that I'm taking you by the hand through the story's subterranean passages, gloomy, low, ugly, almost endless (that's why the sentences are almost endless, didn't you realize that?), almost endless (only two months, you say?) hopefully in order to have the good sense to disappear into the daylight at the exit. A reminder to stop for today, to release my hand, that bearer of good fortune. Tomorrow I'll write again and explain why I- inasmuch as I can speak for myself-cannot come to Vienna, and I will not be satisfied until you say: He is right. Please write the address a little more legibly, once your letter is in the envelope then it's already virtually my property and you should treat other people's property more carefully, with a greater sense of responsibility. So! Incidentally I also have the impression, without being able to ascertain anything more precise, that one of my letters was lost. Jewish anxiety! Instead of fearing that the letters might have arrived safely! Now I will again say something dumb on the same subject, it's dumb of me to say something I think is correct when I know it will hurt me. And on top of that Milena is still going on about anxiety, striking my chest or asking: jste Žid? which in Czech has the same movement and sound. Don't you see how the fist is pulled back in the word "jste, so as to gain muscle power? And then in the word "Žid" the happy blow, flying unerringly forward? The Czech language often produces such side effects on the German ear. For example, you once asked how it happened that I made my stay here dependent on one letter, and then you immediately answered your own question: Nechåpu. A strange word in Czech and even in your mouth it is so severe, so callous, cold-eyed, stingy, and most of all like a nutcracker, pronouncing it requires three consecutive cracks of the jaw or, more exactly, the first syllable makes an attempt at holding the nut, in vain, the second syllable then tears the mouth wide open, the nut now fits inside, where it is finally cracked by the third syllable, can you hear the teeth? Particularly this final, absolute closing of the lips at the end prohibits the other person from expressing anything to the contrary, which is actually quite good at times, for instance when the other person is babbling as much as I am now. Whereupon the babbler replies, entreatingly: "But people only babble if they're a little happy for once." In any event, no letter came from you today. And what I really intended to say in the end remains unsaid. Next time. Tomorrow I'd like very, very much to hear something from you, the last words I heard you say before the door slammed shut- all slamming doors are detestable-were terrible. It's possible that the 3 syllables also signify the 3 movements of the Apostles on the Prague clock. Arrival, making an appearance, and angry departure.